Goodbye To All That
by CaptainSockPuppet
Summary: There's got to be something better out there for them. A place without torture, sociopaths and autocratic leaders; somewhere without the constant threat of death looming over them. They just have to find it. Andrea/Michonne
1. This Too Shall Pass

**Goodbye To All That**

Rating: T

Pairing: Andrea/Michonne

Summary: There's got to be something better out there for them. A place without torture, sociopaths and autocratic leaders; somewhere without the constant threat of death looming over them. They just have to find it.

This story begins shortly after 3x14 "Prey" and will probably veer from canon after that. This is my take on how Andrea and Michonne should be reunited, though I plan on making this a multi-chapter after that. Let me know if you think it's worth continuing!

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Milton stood in front of the door and smoothed down his jacket for the third time in as many minutes. His palms were sweaty, his hands shaky. He was a naturally nervous person, never quite at ease with others, and hoped his current anxiety would be mistaken for that. "You can do this, Milton," he encouraged himself, "no more standing by and pretending you didn't know." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for just a moment, before raising a trembling fist to knock against the metal door.

His knock rang loud and hollow through the corridor. Milton steeled himself, ignoring that part of him that suggested running was his best option. Footsteps sounded behind the door and it was pulled open with a loud creak. Milton stared into the hardened face of a man he had once considered a friend, fearing the rapid thundering of his heart would give him away momentarily. The Governor stepped into the doorway, blocking Milton from seeing the inside of the room. Milton's eyes immediately focused on the white rag the Governor was wiping his hands on; bloody hands, Milton noticed. He looked back up immediately, adjusting his glasses in a nervous habit.

"What is it, Milton? I asked not to be disturbed," said the Governor, his face calm yet Milton knew the danger lurking just beneath the surface.

"Martinez...he needed to see you." Milton suddenly had a hard time remembering the excuse he had planned to use, all sense of logic gone once he had looked into Philip's cold eyes.

The Governor scoffed and stuffed the now bloody rag into his pocket. "You take care of it, Milton. I'm rather busy at the moment."

Milton shook his head, trying to keep calm. "He said something about a security breach. A prisoner, I think. It's not really my area of expertise."

Philip sighed, clearly frustrated at the interruption. He stepped through the doorway and turned to pull the door shut, not allowing Milton a glimpse inside. The Governor did not wait for Milton to follow him, already too angry with Martinez or the security breach to worry over what his old friend might be up to. Milton watched him go, waited to hear the outside door shut and took another deep breath. He had a small window of opportunity and could not afford to waste any time now. Milton pushed open the heavy metal door just far enough for him to slip through, waiting anxiously to see if the loud noise had given him away.

The room was poorly lit, but well enough for him to see. The dental chair in the middle was empty save for some rags and Milton moved past it. He had only seen this room from up high, behind the air vent; it was decidedly creepier down here and the smell, too, was much worse. In a world where rotten corpses walked the streets Milton had gotten used to bad smells and gruesome sights, but this was different. It was different because the smell now assaulting his nostrils was the stench of blood, warm and live-giving, nothing like the congealed mess contained within the bodies of the dead and because the woman chained up in front of him was alive. Or he hoped she was, otherwise he had risked his own life for nothing.

Milton swallowed the bile rising in his throat and looked down at the person he had come to save. The blonde woman was on her knees, both arms outstretched, wrists chained to the posts she knelt between. She was slumped forward, blood dripping from her head onto the concrete floor below. There was blood everywhere, it seemed, sending Milton's stomach rolling, but he forced the nausea away. Blood was matting her blonde hair, it coated her arms and it had pooled on the concrete below her.

Milton swallowed, trying to clear his throat. "Andrea?" he said, voice quiet. She did not stir. He stepped closer, toe of his shoe nearly touching the puddle of blood. "Andrea," he tried again, a little louder this time, but she still did not move.

Time was running out. Milton knew he had to move quickly. As gently as possible he freed her right wrist from the chains, his fingers slick with her blood by the time he was done. As soon as he freed her left wrists she slumped forward and Milton barely managed to keep Andrea's head from cracking against the ground. There was no way he could carry her out of there, he knew, and, thankful for his foresight, Milton pulled an ammonia inhalant from his pocket. He knelt in front of Andrea, hoping desperately this would wake her up as he held the inhalant in front of her nose.

Andrea jerked and her eyes snapped open, staring up at him in such abject fear Milton's stomach clenched. No one had ever looked at him like he was a monster before. Milton reached out to touch her arm in reassurance, but the gesture only earned him a pained hiss. He could tell from the misshapen way her shoulder looked that it was probably dislocated, but there was no time to fix that now. He held up his hands in front of him, palms facing out to show her he was harmless.

"Andrea, it's me, Milton. We have to get you out of here and we don't have much time," he said, hoping she knew what he was saying. Her eyes were wide with fear or pain, or both, and Milton hoped she'd even be able to move. He scanned her body for any significant injures that would prevent her from walking, noticing for the first time she was barefoot. Philip had stripped her down to a tanktop, but thankfully left her jeans on. It was cold outside, too cold for her to be barefoot, underdressed, and drenched in blood, but Milton had nothing to cover her with.

"Can you walk?" asked Milton, throwing worried glances towards the door. Andrea followed his gaze.

"Philip?" she rasped out, her voice hoarse.

Milton shook his head and offered her a hand. "He'll be back soon. We have to hurry."

He didn't have to tell her how precarious their situation was, but Milton wanted to appear as calm as possible. Andrea grasped his hand with her left to pull herself up, grimacing against the pain. Milton had been impressed with her determination before, but it was nothing compared to seeing her practically will herself up in spite of the pain. He knew if it were him on that floor he would already have given up.

Milton wrapped his arm around her waist to lend support, but as soon as Andrea stood her knees buckled and he had to hold her up. She tried again, managing two steps before she doubled over and threw up. Milton's nausea came back fivefold and he tightened his hold on her despite her groans of pain, pulling her with him towards the door. He had no idea how long it had taken him to get them this far and Milton was starting to panic. The Governor would have seen through his distraction quickly and would certainly be on his way to finish what he had started with Andrea. Milton shuddered thinking about him in that room, chained up and bloodied. He walked faster.

Despite the cooling temperature the sun was bright as they stepped outside. Milton almost breathed a sigh of relief, but they were not home free, yet. Andrea had managed to support most of her own weight during their short trek out of the building, but her energy was fading quickly and Milton felt her trembling against his side.

"I hid a car, right over there. We just need to get out of here and I will take you back to your friends. To the prison."

As if his words had given her a renewed surge of energy Andrea clung to him a little tighter and together they slowly made their way to the hidden sedan. Milton was drenched in sweat by the time he opened the backseat. His right side was covered in her blood, but as disgusted as he was now was not the time to change clothes. Milton helped Andrea into the backseat and covered her head to toe with blankets, hoping enough of them would hide her completely from the prying eyes of the sentries. He got into the driver's seat, took a deep breath and started the car. Now he just had to get them out of Woodbury.

...

They watched the car approach from a distance, various weapons already trained on the vehicle. Rick crouched behind an overturned table closest to the gate, using the scope on his rifle to follow the vehicle, but unable to make out any occupants. They were all silent, but the tension was palpable, no one knowing whether they were about to be attacked again. The car entered the yard that had been unsecured since the Governor's attack and drove all the way to their gate, stopping just short of it. Some of the walkers still in the yard started towards the car, drawn by the noise and activity.

Rick held up a hand, signaling to his team to stay where they were at. The driver had yet to turn off the engine, but Rick noticed two hands held out through the driver side window to show the person was unarmed. He kept his rifle trained on the car.

"Get out of the car and show yourself or we will shoot!" he yelled, not willing to take any chances.

"Okay, okay, don't shoot. I'm not armed," yelled the driver, his voice shaky. He opened the car door and slowly got out, throwing a wary glance at the walkers coming closer.

Rick recognized the Governor's assistant and threw a worried glance at Daryl, who was crouched behind a barrier to his right. Daryl shrugged, equally at a loss as to what this guy was doing here. Rick gave a curt nod before standing up, knowing Daryl would cover him, and walked closer to the gate, weapon trained on the stranger.

"What do you want?" shouted Rick, eyeing the man who looked utterly intimidated. The guy might not look like much of a threat, but Rick would not trust anyone from Woodbury.

The man held up his hands, clearly nervous, and his voice still shook as he spoke, "Andrea."

Rick nearly lowered his weapon in confusion, but did not move. "She's in Woodbury. We got nothing to do with her."

The man shook his head as if frustrated. "No, I mean, yes...I know. I brought her...here...in the car."

"Tell her to get out and we'll talk," said Rick, gesturing at the car with his weapon.

"She can't," said the man, something akin to panic in his voice now, but he quickly continued noticing the frustration on Rick's face, "she tried to come here, to warn you, but he...the Governor caught her. She's hurt."

Rick didn't lower his weapon, but he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. The newest member of his group was already moving towards the gate, all caution seemingly thrown to the wind at the mention of her friend. Rick cursed silently; that woman was a liability.

"How can we trust anything you're saying?" asked Rick, worried they were about to let a Trojan horse into their midst.

The man scoffed, clearly frustrated now on top of his panic. "I wouldn't lie about this. He chained her up and **tortured** her! Please, just let us in...they're almost on top of us!"

Rick glanced at the walkers closing in on the car. He still wasn't sure whether the man could be trusted, but before he could make a decision someone was already opening the gate and walking outside.

"Michonne!" hissed Rick, hating her constant disregard for his orders and everyone else's safety.

She ignored him entirely, unsheathing her katana to slice the heads off two walkers that had gotten too close to the car. The man just watched her warily and pointed at the backseat upon receiving a glare from her. Michonne returned her katana to its sheath and yanked open the car door. She turned back around after several moments, carrying Andrea in her arms as she made her way back towards the gate. The look on Michonne's face was darker than Rick had ever seen and as she came closer they could all see why.

Despite the blanket haphazardly wrapped around Andrea they all noticed the state she was in, the blood on her skin, the listless way she hung in Michonne's arms. Rick finally lowered his weapon, shaken. He motioned at the rest of the team and then towards the man still waiting outside. "Let him in, keep him under watch."

Michonne walked past Rick, her movements steady so as not to jostle Andrea, eyes focused on the door to the cellblock and nowhere else. Daryl stepped up to her. "Here, let me help."

"I got it," she snapped, not even looking at him as she walked past.

Rick sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. He looked up at the group, all staring at him as if he had any answers. "Herschel, can you...?" he asked, not needing to explain before the old man nodded and moved to follow Michonne. Most of the others left, as well, until Rick was left with the man who had brought Andrea to them, Daryl, and Merle. As much as he wanted to check on his former friend, first he wanted to know exactly what the hell was going on.

...

Michonne could not remember the last time she had felt such rage, wasn't even sure this feeling could compare to anything she had experienced before. The only thing keeping her from going off in a homicidal rage at this point was that she still held Andrea in her arms and had to make absolutely sure the blonde was going to be alright. By the time Michonne laid Andrea on one of the bunk beds, trying to be as gentle as possible, she was blaming herself for leaving her friend in Woodbury when she had known all along the Governor was a sociopath.

She knelt next to the bunk, staring at Andrea's bruised and bloodied face. One eye was swollen, her lip split, some cuts across her forehead, but worst of all was a long gash running across her cheek from one ear to the corner of her mouth that someone had stitched up haphazardly. Michonne reached out a hand, lightly trailing her fingertips along Andrea's jaw. Andrea gasped, eyes snapping open and Michonne almost withdrew her hand. She wanted to smile, to reassure her friend, but it was taking all her strength just to stay this calm, so instead she took Andrea's hand in hers. Michonne looked intently into her friend's eyes, making absolutely sure Andrea saw her, and tried to make her voice sound as normal as possible. "You're safe now. And I will never let him hurt you again."

Andrea held Michonne's gaze with teary eyes, squeezing the hand holding hers. "I'm sorry...I should have listened to you...I'm so sorry."

Michonne furrowed her brow, confused and angry. Someone touched her shoulder and she just barely managed not to take Carol's head off. The woman gave her a sympathetic glance and nodded towards the entrance of the cell, where Hershel stood, waiting. He made his way into the cell and stopped next to the bunk.

"It may be best if you waited outside," said Herschel as he lowered himself onto the bunk next to Andrea.

Michonne narrowed her eyes. "I'm not leaving her."

He shook his head. "You're of no use to her all riled up like this. Go outside, smash something if you must, but don't come back until you are calm."

She wanted to tell him to mind his own business, that he didn't know what he was talking about, but Michonne knew he was right. And anyway, she still had to talk to Milton. She stood, conveying to Andrea with a look that she would be back and left the cell. The rest of the group was gathered by the entrance around the tables, interrogating Milton. They all looked at her when she entered and she answered their silent questions with a curt shake of her head.

Milton looked at Michonne as if he could expect help from her, more nervous than she had seen him before. He turned back to Rick, his voice imploring. "Please, you all have to leave. The Governor will not hesitate to burn this whole place down with you in it, especially now that he has lost Andrea."

"How long?" asked Michonne.

Milton looked at her as she walked closer, confused. "How long?"

She crossed her arms, her face belying the fire burning just beneath. "How long did he torture her before you decided to grow a pair?"

Milton grew even more nervous, fumbling with his glasses as he looked at each of them in turn. "I...I don't know, exactly. Two days...maybe three. I didn't know."

Michonne scoffed. "Right," she walked right up in front of him, eyes menacing, "I need you to get me into Woodbury."

"What...why? You can't go back there."

"I'm going to kill him."

Rick put a hand on her shoulder as if to restrain her and she shrugged him off. He heaved a sigh, forcing her to look at him. "You cannot go off half-cocked again! We need you here to defend this place."

Michonne rounded on him, anger bubbling to the surface. "He tortured Andrea!"

"I get that! I do. But you running off on a revenge mission won't help anyone, least of all Andrea," said Rick forcefully, though his voice was a lot calmer than Michonne's.

"If I may say something..." Milton interjected and both Rick and Michonne turned to him, anger clear on their faces. Milton held up his hands and adjusted his glasses again. "You all need to leave this place. You don't stand a chance against the Governor. He will kill you all, women and children and he will make you watch as he tortures those you love. You should leave."

Rick scoffed and shook his head. "Did he send you here to us to leave?"

"No," said Milton, confused.

"Let you take Andrea so we'd believe you?"

Milton frowned at Rick. "The Governor will kill me for taking Andrea. I know I don't have a chance, but you all do. You should leave, as soon as possible."

"Maybe he's right," said Maggie, who stood with Glenn farther off to the right. Suddenly everyone wanted to share their opinion and the room erupted in a cacophony of voices.

"Everyone, quiet!" shouted Rick, looking like he wanted to strangle Milton for making such a suggestion in the first place. Before he got a chance, however, Herschel made his way back into the room, drawing everyone's attention. When he didn't speak right away Rick gave him a questioning look. "How is she?"

Herschel sighed, making his way further into the room. He looked at Michonne briefly, before turning to everyone. "Hard to say. Without the proper equipment I can't be sure there are no internal injuries and judging by the external ones it's very likely there are. Some broken bones, lacerations, and bruises, but I'm mostly concerned by the blood loss, dehydration and concussion. I'll keep a close eye on her."

Michonne frowned, a renewed surge of anger running through her. But, she told herself, there was no time for anger; both Herschel and Milton had been right, she decided. Andrea needed her rational and calm and Michonne needed to get them both out of the deathtrap the prison was about to become. She turned to look at Herschel. "When can she leave?"

"Leave?" Herschel looked at her in confusion.

"This place isn't safe. I'm taking Andrea away from here," she said, staring Rick down as if daring him to say something.

Rick held up a hand, frustration showing. "Hey, no one is taking anyone else away. We are in this together and we are going to stay and fight."

Michonne scoffed, annoyed. "Try and stop me."

She turned with one last glare at Rick and stalked off, knowing she would have to pack quickly so they could leave before things started going to hell.

_to be continued_


	2. Give Me Shelter

Thank you all for the great response to the first chapter! I'm glad there's interest in me continuing this story. I meant to have this up sooner, but my muse suffered a harsh blow after the season finale. I suppose this story is now totally AU...

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**Chapter 2 - Give Me Shelter**

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"You are risking her life...a lot of things could go wrong and there won't be anyone...are you listening to what I am saying?"

Michonne stopped stuffing her belongings into a backpack just long enough to glance at Herschel behind her and turned back to her task at hand. "Yes."

He sighed, coming up next to her. "If there are any internal injuries moving her could make them worse. If her concussion is more severe than I thought this could lead to serious brain damage. Her blood volume is low and she is dehydrated; with the way the temperature is dropping outside she will be at serious risk of hypothermia. And all of this is before you factor in the walkers that she cannot defend herself against."

Michonne heaved a sigh, resting her palms on top of the table. She took a deep breath and turned to look at Herschel. "I appreciate your concern, but this is not up for discussion. I am taking Andrea and we are leaving this place. No matter how slim her chances are out there, they are better than if we stay here with the Governor about to tear this place down."

She stuffed the last of the shirts on the table into her bag, tied it shut and moved to walk away. Herschel watched her, desperate. "Michonne..."

"As I've said, you and your daughters are welcome to come along, but staying here is a death sentence," said Michonne, throwing him one last glance before leaving the room. For the past hour, ever since she'd told Rick off, everyone had been trying to talk her into staying and, although she could understand most of their concerns, she was getting sick of it. This was why she'd travelled alone for so long - others just slowed you down and made you take unnecessary risks. Just like Andrea, she reminded herself, whom she had allowed into her life and was now stuck with until her dying breath.

She entered the cell and offered a curt nod to Carol, who was watching over Andrea. Michonne dropped her backpack by the entrance and walked up to the bunk bed. "How is she?"

Carol gave her a weak smile, glancing down at the woman in question. "She's been in and out, but she's holding on."

Carol hesitated, as if she wanted to say something else and Michonne waited for the woman to speak. "Do you really think we should leave?"

"Yes." Michonne did not hesitate with her answer and she refused to lie to these people, as she felt Rick was doing.

"You'd risk hurting her more on the word of a man who works for him?" asked Carol, though her tone was not accusing.

Michonne sat on the edge of the bunk, looking at Andrea, who was asleep or unconscious. She reached out a hand to touch Andrea's cheek, but stopped herself and looked up at Carol. "I'll take my chances. I'm trying to protect her."

"You really care for her, don't you?" asked Carol softly.

Michonne just watched Andrea, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest that meant she was still alive, the bruises in various shades of purple and blue that meant someone had tried to take her away. The mere thought of that bastard torturing Andrea sent a wave of rage through her, made her ears ring and her vision swim. She didn't just **care** for Andrea; after eight months together, surviving, just the two of them, there wasn't a word in the English vocabulary to describe how she felt about Andrea.

She finally looked back up to meet Carol's eyes. "You should really consider leaving, too. There's not much time."

Carol nodded and left the cell, leaving Michonne with her thoughts.

...

She closed the trunk as quietly as possible, looking around at the empty courtyard with apprehension. Despite her certainty when trying to convince everyone else to leave, Michonne knew this was a risky undertaking. It was growing colder each day and they had few supplies. However, she also knew this was the only choice they had.

Daryl nodded at her as he walked past with several bags to the truck parked just ahead. Merle gave her a leery grin as he followed his brother. Although Michonne would never admit it, she was glad the Dixon brothers had decided to leave with her. As much as she hated Merle, at least he was useful in a fight.

"Do you have a plan?"

Michonne turned to see Rick standing just a few feet away, hands on his belt, eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms and leaned against the trunk, waiting just long enough to make him shift in impatience. "We'll go North, stay away from main roads."

Rick shook his head. "It's almost winter and you want to go North? You'll get everyone killed."

"And you will get everyone killed staying here. I've done this before," said Michonne calmly, knowing nothing Rick could say would change her mind.

He came closer, his voice quiet but forceful. "That was when it was just you and Andrea, not a whole group of people depending on you. If they follow you, you better be sure you know what you're doing. It takes more than killing walkers to be a leader."

"I never asked to be a leader."

Rick smiled ruefully and shook his head. "Neither did I. But these people are relying on us and we can't let them down."

Michonne frowned. She hadn't wanted this. She'd only wanted to save Andrea, but she couldn't just leave these people, who had taken her in, who were Andrea's friends, to die. She sighed. "Going North is risky, but he won't suspect it. The Governor **will** try to find us and I don't plan to make it easier for him. We'll head north into Tennessee. We can decide our next move once we're there."

The sun was just starting to rise over the trees and Rick turned to face it, squinting against the bright light. He stayed like that for several moments, both of them silent, before he turned back to Michonne and nodded. "We'll take everything we can. Split all the guns and ammo between the three vehicles. Two hours."

Their eyes locked as if in silent discussion and after a few seconds Rick turned to walk back to the cell block. Michonne watched him go, unsure of how she felt about his decision.

...

It was getting colder the further north they drove, though they had yet to leave Georgia. The roads were becoming hard to navigate, cluttered with stalled and broken down vehicles or debris. Nearly two years without regular maintenance had left the roads cracked, falling apart and with giant potholes that made for a bumpy and difficult ride. She had made the drive from Atlanta to Knoxville once, before the world went to hell. She'd been annoyed then at some slow-moving traffic, had been impatient during the entire five hour drive. She was impatient now for entirely different reasons.

It was going to be dark soon and they had yet to find a place to spend the night. Michonne looked down to her right, watching her friend anxiously. As much as she wanted, needed, to be doing something, when Andrea had grabbed her hand in a brief moment of consciousness as Michonne had gotten her settled in the backseat she knew she would be doing nothing other than sitting here watching over her friend. She had Andrea's legs draped over her lap so the blonde could lay flat on the backseat, covered in blankets to keep her warm. Andrea was still in and out of consciousness, her left hand still weakly grasping Michonne's right.

The car hit another pothole and Michonne thought she saw Andrea grimacing in pain as her body was jarred. Michonne leaned over to touch her friend's face and frowned.

"Hershel, she's burning up."

The older man turned from his position in the passenger seat to look at a worried Michonne. Hershel glanced down at Andrea and sighed. "It could be a number of reasons...infection, brain injury...I'm sorry, but there is nothing I can do for her."

"Hey, umm...they're stopping."

Michonne looked up as Daryl stopped the car behind the green KIA. Rick was walking over. Daryl glanced back at her and Michonne nodded before they both climbed out of the car. The cold air hit her full blast and she shivered. Rick came up to them, Glen right behind him. Michonne was still somewhat apprehensive about Rick coming along, worried that his headstrong approach could spell trouble for her or Andrea. And knowing these people had left Andrea behind once before didn't make Michonne any more likely to trust them.

"It's getting dark. We should find somewhere to stay the night," said Rick, looking around the empty road.

"You got somewhere in mind?" asked Daryl.

Rick pointed towards a dilapidated sign ahead by the side of the road. "There's a town a few miles ahead. I say we find a place to stay for the night."

Michonne looked at the car, worry clearly etched on her face as she nodded. They were extremely low on food, but she was mostly concerned with finding medical supplies Hershel could use to save Andrea. Rick noticed her gaze. "How's Andrea?"

Michonne turned back to him. "Bad." The concern on Rick's face was genuine, she realized. "We need supplies. This town might be our best shot."

"A few of us can go ahead, clear out a place...no need to put everyone in harm's way," said Daryl and the other three agreed immediately.

"Daryl, ask Merle to come along. Michonne, you in?" asked Rick, watching her closely. He could see the inner turmoil written on her face, torn between going off in a rage and caring for her friend.

Michonne nodded and opened the car door to grab her katana. She spent several moments looking at Andrea, still out, before shutting the door and turning to Rick, determination etched on her face. She was going to do whatever it took.

...

Moonlight filtered in through the storefront windows, just enough for her to make out the silhouettes of the others where they lay. Someone was snoring softly, but overall it was quiet. Rick, Daryl, Michonne, and Glen had driven into the town to find a decent place to sleep that was not overrun with walkers. The town had been fairly quiet overall, a few walkers on the street, and they had found a pharmacy that took them all of five minutes to clear of the undead.

They had all spread out behind the pharmacy counter, between the shelves that had been mostly picked clean of drugs. The store windows and front door were protected by metal lattices that made the pharmacy the best option they'd been able to find. They had eaten what little supplies they still had and made their beds on the floor immediately after, yet Michonne still sat awake. She was leaning against the far wall where she'd made their beds, feeling anything but tired. Her mind was in turmoil over the events of the past 24 hours, but sleep was a necessity. She slid halfway down the wall, propping herself up on her pack, one hand reaching out to her right to ensure Andrea was still next to her.

"Mich?"

Michonne turned her head at the voice, though it was hard to see in the near-darkness. She shifted onto her side and reached a hand across, surprised when it was suddenly gripped tightly by another. Moving closer Michonne ran her free hand across Andrea's forehead. They were only inches apart now and Michonne could see her friend's eyes open. She offered as much of a smile as she could muster.

"Where are we?" Andrea's voice was quiet and hoarse, but Michonne was close enough to hear her.

"Dawsonville," replied Michonne just as softly, squeezing her friend's hand.

"We're running?"

"We're safe," said Michonne, her tone leaving no room for argument. Andrea didn't respond and averted her eyes, making it hard for Michonne to figure out what she was thinking. Andrea coughed, grimacing from the pain the action caused. Michonne untangled their hands and sat up, grabbing the water bottle by her side. She put an arm under Andrea's shoulders to help her sit up, putting the bottle to her lips to let her drink.

After a few sips Andrea pushed the bottle away, looking around for the first time. She reached for the bandages Herschel had used to secure her injured right arm against her chest, but Michonne grabbed her hand to stop her. "Don't."

"How am I supposed to defend myself like this?" asked Andrea, frustration in her voice that Michonne knew had nothing to do with the question at hand. She could feel how tense her friend was as she held her up.

"You got me."

Andrea snorted, whether in mirth or derision Michonne couldn't tell, but the blonde relaxed against her at last. Michonne pulled her closer until Andrea's head came to rest on her shoulder. She'd never admit it, but she had missed her friend and the closeness they shared. And as much as she disliked public displays of affection, especially in front of people she didn't yet fully trust, she wasn't going to let go now. Michonne laid back, pulling Andrea with her as carefully as possible.

"Are you in pain?" she asked, feeling Andrea tense up again.

"I'm fine," said Andrea quietly, curling against Michonne's side as best as she could with one arm imprisoned and her chest on fire every time she took a breath.

Michonne managed a wry smile. "Liar," she said softly, but didn't press it further; there was nothing she could do about it after all. All she could do was hold Andrea close while she slept and hope they were both still alive in the morning.

_to be continued..._


	3. Felo de Se

Thank you all for the great response to the last chapter! Like most of you I am still trying to get over the season finale, but writing this is actually kind of cathartic so I'm definitely planning to keep it going as long as there is still interest.

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**Chapter 3 - Felo De Se**

.

Michonne was leaning back against a file cabinet, arms crossed, her expression dour. She watched stoically as Hershel tended to the multitude of cuts across Andrea's body, using supplies they had found in the pharmacy to stitch up what he could. Michonne was forcing herself to breathe steadily, to push the rage away as it threatened to take over. Every gasp of pain or grimace coming from her friend stabbed straight at her heart and made her hands shake in anger. The Governor needed to die.

"Do you have to stare like that?" asked Andrea from where she sat topless on a low desk, staring at the ground while Hershel worked. She could feel Michonne's eyes on her and it made her incredibly anxious. Andrea knew she had messed up, had betrayed the best friend she had ever had, the first person she'd been able to love since Amy died, and now she didn't know how to make it right.

Michonne didn't respond and didn't avert her eyes. She was making sure no one other than Hershel saw the extent of what the Governor had done to Andrea, knowing her friend wouldn't want to be seen as weak. The small office at the back of the pharmacy had offered the perfect secluded area for Hershel to fix what he could. After several more minutes Hershel got up and looked between the two women. Michonne took a few steps closer until she stood right next to the desk.

"I've done all I can. We will have to wait and see," said Hershel with a sigh, looking down at his patient.

"Wait for what?" asked Andrea, not liking the resigned tone in his voice and the concerned look on Michonne's face.

"For your body to fight off whatever is going on. You've still got a fever. How is your head?" Hershel looked down at her with such sympathy Andrea averted her eyes, uncomfortable.

"Worst hangover ever," she joked weakly, not surprised when Michonne merely narrowed her eyes in annoyance. Hershel at least managed an unconvincing half smile, before patting Michonne on the shoulder and moving towards the door. As soon as he left the room, Michonne took the zip-up sweater Andrea had been holding onto and draped it over her shoulders. She held out the left sleeve for Andrea to slip into and then as gently as possible helped her get her injured right arm through the other sleeve. Michonne zipped up the sweater then secured Andrea's right arm in the sling she had found, looking into her friend's eyes when she was done.

"Don't move it. I will tie it back down if you do."

Andrea tried to read Michonne, but was finding it impossible even while staring straight into her eyes. They were so close Andrea felt she could just reach up and wrap her arms around her friend, that if she moved just a few inches their lips would meet. She looked away and cleared her throat.

"I don't even remember this," she said, indicating her injured shoulder.

Michonne frowned. "Dislocated. You were tied up. We should go pack." She was clearly uncomfortable talking about Andrea's injuries and turned, ready to walk away.

"Michonne..." Andrea stopped her, waiting until she turned to continue speaking. "I'm sorry."

Andrea's voice broke on the last syllable and Michonne furrowed her brow. Andrea's eyes were begging her for something she didn't know how to deal with. Michonne just didn't do emotions. She averted her eyes and turned again. "Come on."

Michonne exited the room, not looking back so she wouldn't have to see the dejected look she knew would be on Andrea's face.

...

The sun was warm on her face and it felt nice despite how hot she already felt even in the cold wind that had picked up. Andrea sat on the trunk of the sedan, staring out across the empty street that was flanked by businesses and buildings on both sides. They'd packed up the cars first thing in the morning, but Rick had decided it was worth searching the quiet town for supplies. There had not even been any food left for them to share, but Andrea hadn't been hungry anyway. She'd wanted to come along on the search for supplies, but Michonne had shot that idea down immediately.

She knew Michonne was angry with her, could see it in their interactions that were even more closed off than usual, but had no idea how to fix it. Andrea regretted staying in Woodbury far more because it had cost her her best friend than because she'd nearly died.

"How are you feeling?" Carol came up beside her, wearing a look of concern that almost put Andrea on edge. She hated having everyone looking at her like she was some broken thing that needed to be constantly watched.

Andrea turned her head and offered Carol a weak smile, not even bothering with an answer. Only Carol, Hershel, Beth, Andrea and the baby had been left behind with the cars while all the others, even Carl, had gone to search the town. Andrea hated feeling so useless, especially when she hadn't really been around these people in a year.

"Michonne is really worried about you," Carol continued, as if needing Andrea to engage her in conversation.

Andrea looked down, wishing she could avoid this topic entirely. It was bad enough berating herself over her stupidity, she didn't want to explain to someone else how badly she had screwed up a great friendship. She looked back up at Carol. "She likes to worry."

Carol offered a tight smile, as if saying she knew Andrea was avoiding the subject but would let it go for now. She looked away towards the other cars parked ahead, watching for the rest of their group to return, when Andrea called her name. The change in tone made Carol turn back around and she gasped as she saw the two walkers coming up the street towards them.

The walkers were fairly slow, but were coming straight towards them. Carol fumbled for the handgun Daryl had left her with and pointed it at the walkers. She was nervous, but she had killed walkers before. Carol pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Her heart started racing. She pulled the trigger again and still nothing. The walkers were now just a few yards away.

"The safety!" hissed Andrea from just behind her and Carol looked at the gun to undo the safety. Carol pointed the gun at the closest walker and pulled the trigger. The shot went wide. The second shot hit one walker in the chest, but it only staggered and continued on. Carol got off a few more shots, but the walkers did not stop. They were almost upon them now.

Andrea slid off the trunk, grabbing her knife in her left hand. The sudden surge of adrenaline was making her head clearer than it had felt in days and in three strides she was in front of the walker. A rush of anger came over her and before the walker could even reach for her Andrea buried the knife in its skull. The walker went down, but the pain that erupted across Andrea's chest and exploded in her head made her drop to her knees. The other walker tried to reach for her, but stumbled over its dead brethren and knocked Andrea to the ground.

The creature's putrid breath made her gag as it practically crawled on top of her. Andrea was holding it off with her left hand, but there was no way she could kill it one-handed. Her right shoulder screamed in protest as she freed her arm from the cumbersome sling and pushed at the walker's neck to keep it from biting her. Her stomach rolled and a wave of dizziness nearly made her black out. Andrea thought she heard screaming in the background, or maybe it was her, and with whatever last reserves she could muster she slammed the knife into the walker's temple.

When Andrea opened her eyes the rest of the team stood around her. Judging by the concerned eyes looking down at her and the fact that they had seemingly come out of nowhere she knew she must have lost consciousness. Sudden panic gripped her when she realized she had no idea whether she had managed to fight off the walker before it bit her. She tried to look at herself, but a hand on her forehead held her down. She couldn't tell whose hand it was, but Andrea knew for certain it wasn't Michonne's.

"For god's sakes, just stay still for once," said Daryl, the annoyance in his voice betraying the concern he felt.

Andrea tried to relax, but the pain and the nausea and the dizziness all collaborated to overwhelm her. Her mouth was dry and she suddenly realized how close she had come to dying. Again. She looked at the people surrounding her, Hershel, Carol, Rick, and Daryl whom she couldn't see, but no Michonne.

Rick forestalled her panicked question with a nod of his head. "She's fine. You're not."

"Help me up." Andrea had no interest in talking about the state she was in. Rick hesitated, but eventually grasped her left hand. Despite the care with which he pulled her up, Andrea had to fight to keep the pain from showing on her face. As Rick helped her to the car she could see everyone was packed and ready to go.

Daryl opened the backseat door and watched her get into the car, giving her a reproachful look when their eyes met. "That was damn stupid." He shut the door before she could respond and explain how close those walkers had been to reaching both her and Carol.

Hershel got into the backseat on the passenger side, probably to keep an eye on her and Andrea realized that Michonne wasn't even planning to ride in the same car as her. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pain and her heavy heart.

...

The next time Andrea awoke it was dark outside. She shifted in her seat, her body protesting at the abuse she put it through earlier. The car was empty save for her and Milton sitting to her right, fiddling with his hands. She was glad Rick had practically forced him to come along, because Philip would have surely tortured him to death, but Andrea could tell there was a great deal of awkwardness between the Governor's former man and the prison group.

"Milton? What's going on?" she asked softly. He turned to look at her, face neutral.

"They don't trust me. They told me to stay here with you."

"Where did they go?" asked Andrea, frustrated over having been left behind again, even if she had been asleep.

Milton's voice was eerily calm, but his words chilled her to the core. "Someone was following us."

"Philip?" She refused to call him the Governor.

Milton looked at her. "Yes, I'd think so."

Andrea reached for the door handle, dead set on going after her friends and aiding them in whatever was about to happen. Milton hit the door lock to stop her. "That's a bad idea."

"My friends are out there probably dying. I can't just sit here and do nothing," she hissed, panic taking over.

Milton shook his head. "You'd be of little use to them in your current state," he said, holding up a hand to stop her protest, "Andrea, you're hurt. I don't think you understand how badly. Michonne was very adamant that I don't let you leave this car."

The mention of her friend's name made Andrea hesitate. Michonne had been ignoring her all day as far as she knew, so why would the other woman care at all about what Andrea did now? But as much as Andrea wanted to throw caution to the wind, again, just moving to unlock the door took everything out of her. She leaned back, frustrated, and looked at Milton who appeared incredibly nervous. She couldn't blame him; for all they knew the Governor was out there right now killing everyone in his sight. She thought about saying something to reassure him. Before she could, however, someone yanked open the car door at her side, letting the chilly night air rush in.

Andrea looked up into the barrel of a rifle and even in the low light she could see Martinez's grinning face looking down at her.

.

_to be continued_


	4. in girum imus nocte

Thank you everyone who has been reviewing this story; I am a huge slacker and your reviews remind me not to give up on this story!

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**Chapter 4 - in girum imus nocte**

.

This time she was going to die. Martinez kept his rifle trained on Andrea with his right hand and used his left to yank her unceremoniously from the car. She landed on her behind in the dirt below. Martinez bent lower to glance in the car. He grinned and waved his rifle at the man still cowering in the backseat.

"Milton, the Governor will be real glad to see you," said Martinez, motioning with the rifle for Milton to get out of the vehicle. Martinez grabbed him when he was close enough and shoved him down next to Andrea. He trained the rifle on each of them in turn as if trying to make a decision.

"You don't have to do this," Andrea tried to convince him, but Martinez only scoffed.

"You know, I think he was done with you anyway...probably wouldn't mind if I put a bullet between your eyes," he countered, pressing the barrel of the rifle against her forehead.

Gunfire sounded somewhere nearby, but Andrea kept her eyes on Martinez. Even though her heart was racing and the fear starting to overwhelm her, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of letting him see how terrified she was. If she was going to die right here, right now, she would stare him down while she did. Andrea only wished she could've let Michonne know how sorry she was about everything and how much she loved her.

Martinez had his finger on the trigger and squeezed. Andrea held her breath. A shadow flashed behind Martinez and suddenly a sword blade protruded through his forehead. He dropped to the ground, dead. Andrea stared up at her savior, heart thundering.

"We've got to go. Now." There was a hint of urgency in Michonne's voice, but otherwise there was no indication she had just killed a man. She leaned down to take the assault rifle and slung it over her shoulder. Then she went to the trunk of the car and grabbed two packs, as well as two more assault rifles. She turned back to Milton and Andrea, who hadn't moved from their spots on the ground.

"Move!" she hissed, tossing one of the packs and rifles at Milton when he finally stood. "Carry this."

Andrea got up as carefully as possible and walked over to her friend. "Let me carry something, too."

Michonne gave her a scathing look. "No." Instead she pressed a pistol into Andrea's hand and turned back around, slinging a second assault rifle around her neck. "We have to run. The woods are our best chance of losing them."

Andrea wanted to ask questions, but decided it wasn't worth being on a receiving end of another one of those looks. Michonne set off for the trees and Milton followed, Andrea trailing behind. They took up a fast pace and Andrea was thankful Milton was so out of shape she was managing to keep up with him despite her injuries. Michonne would run ahead, occasionally taking care of some walkers judging by the sound of her katana being unsheathed, and then stop, waiting for Milton and Andrea.

They continued like this for what seemed like a good hour, unsure even of where they were going in the dark. Milton stopped so abruptly Andrea nearly ran into him. He bent over, gasping for breath. Andrea wanted to shove him forward. Her chest was on fire, she couldn't remember the last time she'd managed to draw a real breath, and her head was swimming, but she was still going.

"We have to stop. Where are we even going?" said Milton, still out of breath.

Andrea wanted to berate him for asking questions when their lives were in danger, but she still couldn't get enough air. She wished they hadn't stopped; while running the adrenaline had kept her upright, but now her energy was fading fast. Dropping to her knees Andrea desperately tried to cling to consciousness as she wrung for breath. She'd broken some ribs years ago, but then really good drugs had made it bearable; now, without those same drugs, she was in agony every time she tried to take a breath.

Milton stared down at her, confused and concerned, and Andrea wanted to punch him for making her stop in the first place. But she just couldn't draw a real breath and the lack of oxygen was starting to make her panic. After everything she would die from hyperventilating in a dark forest running from her sociopathic ex-boyfriend. Andrea would have laughed if she had been able to muster the strength. Suddenly there was a hand on her back and something soft was being pressed against her aching ribs.

"Calm down." Andrea wanted to cry hearing Michonne's voice in her ear, despite the stern words. The balled up cloak Michonne was pressing against Andrea's broken ribs was actually making it less painful for her to breathe and she managed to take a few shuddering breaths. The hand on her back moved around her shoulder and Andrea felt herself pulled sideways against her friend. Michonne rested her forehead against the side of Andrea's head, holding her in such a tender and loving way it alone would have been enough to take Andrea's breath away.

They sat like that for a while, despite the danger. Michonne's embrace was warm and comforting and Andrea felt herself starting to drift off. After several more minutes Michonne pulled away, despite Andrea's weak protest.

"We have to keep moving," said Michonne quietly, unfolding her cloak to drape it around Andrea's shoulders.

"I'm so tired."

Michonne frowned. Andrea sounded more than tired, but there was no way of knowing if the Governor's people were still following them. They couldn't rest now. She dug something out of the pack by her side and wrapped an arm around Andrea's waist to pull her up.

"Here, eat this." Michonne pressed a granola bar into Andrea's hand, slinging the pack and rifles back around her shoulders.

"I'm not hungry," said Andrea softly, trying to hand the bar back to her friend.

Michonne ignored her. She glared at Milton, who was standing near them looking uncomfortable, and began walking. She kept up a slower pace this time, making sure Andrea was next to her the entire time. It had gotten a lot colder overnight and Michonne was worried. They needed a place to hide out, somewhere she could force some food, fluids, and much needed rest on Andrea.

They had walked in silence for a long time when Michonne noticed the gas station on the side of the road up ahead. They were still hidden behind the tree line, but had walked along the road the entire way hoping to find a safe place. She stopped to survey the gas station, but it was hard to see much in the dark. Michonne took off her pack and turned to her two companions. Milton looked exhausted, but she wasn't concerned about him.

"I'm going to check out the gas station. Stay here, watch Andrea," she said quietly, already unsheathing her katana before she crossed the road.

The front windows of the gas station had been smashed in and the inside looked like it had been ransacked. Michonne peered through the broken storefront. It was a horrible idea to go into an abandoned store in the dark, but she needed somewhere more secure than the woods. She climbed through the broken window, holding her katana out in front of her. Broken glass and plastic wrappers crunched underfoot as she walked into the store. It wasn't a big store at all, and all the shelves had been knocked over allowing Michonne to see the entirety of the store. There were no walkers. She lowered her katana and carefully walked through the mess towards a door near the back.

Michonne carefully turned the doorknob on the 'Employees Only' door and pushed it open. It creaked and opened onto darkness. She sensed movement and suddenly a walker stumbled through the doorway straight at her. Michonne stepped back and swung her katana, slicing the walker's head off in one smooth move. She waited for any more of them, but the store was quiet. When she entered the storeroom it was dark, but she could make out some shapes that indicated shelves against the wall and maybe a desk. The room was small, but it would work for tonight.

She returned to the woods to collect her two companions. Milton looked apprehensive about entering the gas station, but Michonne paid no attention to him. She fished a candle out of her pack and lit it. It gave off just enough light to let them see inside the storeroom. Michonne set the candle on the desk, put her pack and weapons on the ground and began setting up their bed in the farthest corner from the door. When she was done she maneuvered Andrea onto the blankets, wrapping her in the covers. Andrea pushed them off.

"It's hot enough already."

"That's cause you have a fever," said Michonne, pressing the back of her hand against Andrea's forehead. She pulled the blankets back around her friend's shoulders, giving her a look that left no room for argument. She stood and turned, finding Milton still standing in the doorway, looking utterly confused.

"There should be blankets in that pack," she said, indicating the backpack he still carried, "you can sleep right there. Help me with this desk."

Milton put down his stuff and helped Michonne push the desk in front of the door. It wouldn't keep anyone out for long, but hopefully long enough for her to grab a weapon and stop them first. With Andrea injured and Milton practically useless Michonne knew she'd have to be the one to defend them. She let him make his bed and tossed him some crackers before she extinguished the candle and returned to her own bed. Andrea was lying on her less injured side, facing the wall and Michonne laid down behind her. She wrapped an arm around Andrea's waist, the best way she knew to keep her friend lying down and still.

They'd slept like this many times through the winter, at first to share body heat, but eventually it had become a source of comfort for them both. Michonne didn't know when she'd developed feelings for Andrea, but she had managed to push them to the back of her mind during the drama of the past few months. She'd felt betrayed by Andrea's actions in Woodbury, still did, but seeing the other woman this hurt by that monster brought all Michonne's feelings and protective instincts back to the forefront.

"Will you tell me what happened?" asked Andrea, quiet and not at all demanding like she normally did. Michonne knew she had been treating Andrea poorly this past day, but it took all her willpower to keep from saying every horrible thing on her mind.

"We were followed. We stopped somewhere hidden, hoped we could take them by surprise by doubling back behind them. Didn't work out."

"Was it Philip?" Andrea pushed down a wave of nausea as she thought about the Governor. The more time passed, the more she remembered of her time in his torture chamber.

Michonne tightened her hold on Andrea at the mention of the Governor. "Didn't see him, but now that he knows the direction we're going in he will follow."

"What happened to the others?"

"I don't know. We were pushed back; I went back to make sure you were okay," said Michonne, thinking about how close she had come to losing Andrea again. If she had been just a minute too late Martinez would likely have killed her.

Andrea turned onto her back so she could look at Michonne. Their faces were mere inches apart, Michonne's arm still draped across the blonde's middle. Andrea met her friend's eyes and swallowed hard. "What are we going to do now?"

"We survive, like we always do."

.

_to be continued_


	5. et consumimur igni

Thank you all for your response to the last chapter. I've seriously neglected my last term paper to get this out in a timely manner, so you all better enjoy this chapter immensely ;)

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**Chapter 5 - et consumimur igni**

It was quiet, safe for Milton's voice out in the storefront, babbling like a nervous fool. Andrea could easily imagine the face Michonne must have been wearing at that moment, trying to ignore a babbling Milton. This time she hadn't even offered to help, knowing Michonne would only tell her to stay, and had instead pretended to be asleep. Really Andrea had been pretending to sleep all night and the fact that Michonne had not seen through the lie betrayed how tired she must have been.

Andrea lay on her back on the makeshift bed, staring up at the ceiling. She was focusing intently on breathing in, breathing out, trying to push the limit of her broken ribs. No matter which position she tried to lie in, the pain was constant and at times overwhelming, made only worse by the fact that Andrea didn't even really know what was wrong with her. She remembered flashes here and there of Philip's torture, but no one had really filled her in on the aftermath. Her fever was only getting worse, that she knew, and Andrea hated herself for once again slowing Michonne down in a dire situation.

"You need to eat."

Andrea opened her eyes at the voice. She'd fallen asleep after all, she realized. Michonne was sitting next to her, looking down at Andrea with an unreadable expression. In front of her were several dirty, crumpled bags that looked like they might have contained food in another century.

"I'm not hungry," she responded, knowing already Michonne wasn't going to give in.

"Milton was on his hands and knees trying to find something salvageable for you," said Michonne, the corners of her mouth almost turning up in a smile.

Not wanting to ruin this near good mood her friend seemed to be in, Andrea moved to sit up. Michonne's hands were on her immediately to help her and Andrea would have been lying if she'd said she didn't secretly enjoy it. She leaned back against the wall and looked at the offering spread before her. A grime-covered bag of Lays that looked as though they had been stomped on, a misshapen SlimJim and a single-serve cup of peanut butter.

Michonne watched her friend, knowing another excuse was about to be made, and reached for her pack to grab a spoon. She opened the peanut butter, the least disgusting and most nutritious offering she had, and dipped the spoon in it. Even two years later its consistency was the same as it had been originally and the smell made Michonne's mouth water. Their rations had been running low for a while. She held the peanut butter-laden spoon out to Andrea.

"I can feed myself, you know," said Andrea, reaching for the spoon with her left hand.

"Then do it," countered Michonne, watching her expectantly.

Andrea was well aware Michonne had become quite good at manipulating her, but she much preferred this interaction to the silent treatment she'd had to suffer through before. She put the spoon in her mouth, marveling that something long ago expired could still taste so good. As soon as she swallowed her stomach rolled, protesting the involuntary hunger strike it had endured for several days by threatening to expel whatever food it was finally given. Andrea forced the meager bite she had taken to stay down, taking as deep of a breath as she could muster to push away the nausea. Michonne suddenly held a water bottle against her lips and Andrea took a few small sips. Her stomach calmed somewhat.

Andrea looked at her friend, but Michonne said nothing, instead holding the peanut butter out for her to finish. It took a good thirty minutes for her to finish the maybe five spoonfuls of peanut butter and Andea wanted to laugh. Before the apocalypse she would've eaten a little cup like that in five minutes for a second afternoon snack and now she could hardly keep it down when it was her sole source of nutrition. Michonne continued to watch her with that concerned look on her face that Andrea hated.

"When are we leaving?" asked Andrea.

"We should stay for a few days. Give you a chance to rest."

Andrea gave Michonne an incredulous look. They'd already had this argument months ago, before the whole Woodbury mess, and Andrea hadn't liked it much then. "You're kidding, right?"

Michonne frowned. "I'm not willing to risk your life."

"And I'm not willing to risk yours. Philip will be searching this area. This is the only hideout we found and he will find it, too. We have to leave, Michonne," pleaded Andrea.

Michonne was about to protest, knowing that Andrea was in no condition to walk anywhere, but then she noticed the fear on her friend's face. Terror, something she had never seen on Andrea's face before, not even the night they had first met. The Governor had put that fear on Andrea's face and Michonne resolved once again to kill that bastard the first chance she got.

Michonne gave a curt nod and turned away, not wanting Andrea to mistake the anger on her face as directed at her. "We'll leave as soon as we've packed."

Andrea reached for her friend, but Michonne was already getting up to pack their stuff.

...

The wind was whipping against them, harsh and unrelenting. It had gotten progressively colder and with the windchill Michonne was worried they would all die from hypothermia overnight. They hadn't come across any structures since the gas station, safe for two farm houses, one of which had been overrun by walkers and the other one structurally unsound. From what Michonne could tell they had crossed into Tennessee, probably just before the Governor's men attacked. Without the rest of Rick's group it would be a lot more difficult to survive, even if she had managed with Andrea before, but they couldn't risk returning to the scene of the attack or waiting around somewhere. And most concerning of all, Andrea was getting sicker by the hour.

Michonne turned to look at her friend walking behind her. Milton was bringing up the rear and he had complained relentlessly over the past few hours about the cold, the pace, and the lack of food. The only reason Michonne had not left him behind was because she owed him for saving Andrea. She slowed to match Andrea's pace and watched her face closely. Michonne had wrapped her cloak and a blanket around Andrea, but the blonde was shivering badly. She had developed a cough, too, reminding Michonne of last winter when she'd nearly lost Andrea to the flu.

"We should stop for the day," said Michonne, loud enough for Milton to hear behind them. She surveyed the area around them, an unpaved rural road flanked by the occasional tree but little else. She steered them towards the edge of the road. To its right the road was bordered by a fairly steep grassy incline that met upon a weak stream several yards down. Michonne climbed the dilapidated fence lining the road and took a few steps down the incline. There was a drainage pipe she figured could be big enough to fit a person, or three, and provide enough shelter from weather and walker to survive the night. She returned to the top of the incline.

"We can sleep in that drain pipe. It will keep out the wind, at least," she said, already moving to help Andrea over the fence.

"A sewage pipe?" Milton sounded appalled, but he hadn't been too thrilled about anything since they'd lost the others.

Michonne lifted Andrea over the fence with an arm around her waist and helped her down the incline. "Not sewage. It should be dry. No people means no wastewater."

Milton was still not convinced it seemed and watched the two women slowly make their way down the incline. Michonne wished she could just pick Andrea up and carry her down the hill, but she knew the blonde would never allow it. Instead she just kept her arm wrapped around Andrea as tightly as possible and maneuvered them towards the drain pipe. It was larger than she had expected, its entrance covered by a rusty metal grate. Michonne had no problem peeling back the grate far enough for them to fit through the opening. As she had predicted, the drain was completely dry, but pitch black just a few feet in.

Using the sole candle they had she lit it and squeezed through the pipe opening, leaving Andrea leaning against the pipe outside. Michonne crawled forward on hands and knees, eternally grateful that she was not claustrophobic. She made it several yards, the candle throwing a weak light just bright enough to illuminate the pipe, when she came upon a mound of dirt. She inspected the pipe closer and noted that it must have partially collapsed, sealing off the other end with dirt and rocks. Michonne returned to the opening confident this was the best hiding spot she had managed to find in a while. Even if the Governor were to follow them along this road he was unlikely to look inside a drainage pipe.

When she crawled back out of the pipe Milton had finally made his way down the hill and was looking morose standing next to Andrea. "We'll stay here the night. It's safe," said Michonne, brushing the dirt from her clothes. The pipe was dry, but it was filthy.

"What are we going to eat?" asked Milton and Michonne wanted to shake him.

"Milton, just shut up." Both turned to look at Andrea, who despite looking miserable still managed to be annoyed by Milton.

Michonne decided it was her cue to help Andrea into the pipe. "It's almost dark, we should sleep. We will look for something to eat tomorrow."

She spread out their sleeping bags and blankets a little ways into the pipe, preferring Milton to sleep closer to the opening just in case a walker or Woodbury resident showed up. It was horrible, really, using him as a shield, but Michonne did not care about Milton. She only cared about Andrea.

Michonne sighed heavily and pushed her pack toward the head end of the sleeping bags. She was starving, but whatever supplies they'd scavenged in Dawsonville had been left behind in the cars and the gas station had offered nothing edible outside the peanut butter and unappetizing chips. They'd have to think of something soon, somewhere for food and water and preferably some type of shelter. And antibiotics, Michonne reminded herself as she tucked Andrea into the sleeping bag and draped another blanket on top of her.

She suddenly felt a warm hand against her cheek. "Michonne."

Michonne took Andrea's hand in hers, face turned towards where she knew her friend to be even though it was too dark to see.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but I don't want to die without you knowing that I'm sorry for not listening to you. You're my best friend and I should have gone with you. I'm sorry," said Andrea quietly, trying to convey her sincerity through her words.

"You're not going to die," said Michonne gruffly.

Andrea wanted to scream at her friend's inability or reluctance to talk about anything emotional. She squeezed Michonne's hand. "Mich, please...I want us to be okay."

Michonne averted her eyes, even though they couldn't see each other's faces in the dark. "We're okay."

They were silent for a few moments, before Andrea spoke again. "Are you saying that just to get me to stop talking?"

Michonne sighed. "Andrea..."

"Michonne," countered Andrea and Michonne had to suppress a smile at the tone in her voice.

Freeing her hand Michonne reached out to pull Andrea against her. "Can we just go to sleep, please?"

Andrea knew Michonne was trying to avoid a serious conversation, but she was too tired to fight. She let Michonne pull her close and rested her head on her friend's shoulder. Michonne wrapped one arm around Andrea's shoulders, adjusting the blanket to ensure the blonde was well covered. Andrea was still burning up, the heat radiating off of her, but Michonne was not going to let go.

"Michonne?" said Andrea softly.

"Hmm?"

Andrea raised her head and leaned up just enough to press her lips to the corner of Michonne's mouth. "Thank you."

She laid back down, exhaustion overwhelming her. Michonne, suddenly a lot less tired, tightened her hold on Andrea, vowing to find a way to save her.

...

The grass was crunchy underfoot from the morning frost. Michonne exhaled heavily, watching her breath rise in the air. She hoped it would warm up somewhat during the day; it would be a horrible idea to have Andrea walking through freezing weather when she was so sick. Thinking of her friend made Michonne frown. Andrea's cough had progressively gotten worse over night and Michonne had left her this morning curled up at the pipe opening in a feverish stupor. She had instructed Milton to stay by Andrea's side and though she was not happy about his presence it at least meant she could go scavenge for food while leaving Andrea behind.

Michonne wished she had Daryl around, or at least his crossbow, as hunting small game with a katana and assault rifle was less than ideal. She had found no animals and it was already too cold for vegetation. They had little choice but to find a town, or at the very least a house, to have a shot at supplies. As hungry as she was, however, finding medicine for Andrea was Michonne's foremost concern.

She glanced around the copse of trees she had explored and decided to head back. There had to be some houses somewhere nearby, but it would take some walking to get there. She crossed a fallow field, home to some cow carcasses that had long ago been stripped of any meat. Michonne climbed over the low fence that separated the field from the incline across from the pipe they had slept in. She was about a hundred yards away, walking along the top of the incline in case she saw something useful in the field or the road across the stream below.

About fifty yards away Michonne noticed two dark heaps on the ground just next to the drainage pipe. She slowed, narrowing her eyes. Michonne reached for her katana, measuring her steps carefully while she moved closer. Thirty yards and she recognized the closest dark heap as Milton, unconscious on the frozen ground. Panic seized her and she hastened her steps, the katana tight in her grip. The second heap unfolded before her eyes into a full-size person. The person now moved away from Milton and towards the drainage pipe. The drain pipe where she had left Andrea. The stranger bent over, torso vanishing into the pipe. Michonne ran.

_to be continued_


	6. How to Save a Life

So this chapter is mostly filler, but I'll be bringing the Michandrea next chapter for sure! As long as you're all still interested ;)

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**Chapter 6 - How to Save a Life**

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Michonne leaped across the stream, katana in hand. Maybe five yards separated her from the stranger's back. Her left foot landed in the ice cold water with a splash. The stranger whirled around, gun pointed at Michonne's chest. She held the katana in front of her, her face menacing. Taking a few steps to the side allowed her to turn the stranger and gain a quick glance into the pipe. Michonne wanted to collapse in relief seeing Andrea looking as alive as she had been this morning.

"Leave...and I won't kill you," she said, her voice low and gravelly.

The stranger raised an eyebrow and gave an odd smirk. "You do know I'm the one with the gun, right?"

Michonne studied the stranger carefully. He was of average height, with a lean build, dark hair and light eyes. He was wearing camouflage cargo pants and a regular jacket, but the aloof way he held his gun worried Michonne. "I'm quick."

He inclined his head slightly. "I'm a good shot."

Michonne risked a glance at Milton on the ground, noting with relief that he was alive, but unconscious. The stranger followed her gaze and held up his free hand when she looked back at him. "Hey, he came at me with a knife. I wasn't gonna let him slice me. Not the best person to watch your valuables, though, I have to say."

The joking tone the stranger used was putting Michonne on edge. She couldn't tell if the guy was trying to lull her into a false sense of security or was really just harmless. She motioned towards the pipe with her head. "What were you doing?"

"You may have realized that your friend seems pretty sick. I was just trying to help," he said with an innocent shrug.

Michonne narrowed her eyes at the stranger. He watched her for a few moments, then smirked again. "Alright, I was looking to steal your shit. You caught me. No harm, no foul right?"

"Then you won't mind leaving," said Michonne, finding the whole exchange disconcerting. She wanted to check on Andrea and get out of here.

He was silent for a few moments, watching her. He motioned at the katana with his gun. "You any good with that thing?"

"Got this far, didn't I?" she answered, hoping she could just intimidate him into leaving. He offered another smirk, but didn't say anything. She took a step closer. "Would you like me to demonstrate?"

The stranger actually seemed to mull it over. After a few seconds he tucked his gun into the waistband of his pants and held his hands up when Michonne took another step closer. His face and voice were a lot more serious this time when he spoke. "I want to propose something to you. If you don't like it, I'll leave."

"I already don't like it."

"I can save your friend," he said, face serious.

Michonne gritted her teeth. "She doesn't need saving."

"Oh yeah?" he scoffed. "Her fever is high enough it could kill her, if the pneumonia doesn't first."

Michonne advanced on him, angry and he took a few steps back. She pressed the tip of her katana against his neck. The stranger did not move, still holding his hands up. He met her eyes calmly. "We have IV antibiotics. Nothing else will be strong enough to save her."

"We?"

"My two friends and I. Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but what could I possibly have to gain from lying to you? You got anything worth stealing?"

Michonne relaxed her hold on the katana just slightly. If he was telling the truth she could save Andrea, but if it were a trap all their lives would be endangered. Her silence was enough of an answer for him and the stranger continued. "And killing you doesn't do me any good, either. We got some food, a safe place to sleep, and meds to help your friend."

"Why?" she asked, eyes narrowed. Michonne had learned a long time ago that anything that sounded too good to be true usually was.

"Why what?"

"Why would you help us?"

"I'm just a good guy?" he offered, a hint of that joking tone back in his voice. Michonne pressed the tip of the katana deeper against his neck. "Fine...I told you I have a proposal. I need the help of some people who won't shit themselves every time they see a walker. You look pretty competent to me."

Michonne backed off a little. If the stranger wanted something in return the offer was a lot less suspicious. "I won't leave behind my friend to go slay walkers with you somewhere."

"The blonde or the loser?"

"The blonde," said Michonne, wishing there was some sort of sign of whether or not this guy could be trusted.

He grinned. "She can come. So, will you come hear me out?"

Michonne thought back to the last time she'd been faced with an impossible decision - stay in Woodbury with Andrea or leave behind her best friend. She'd made the wrong choice then; how was she supposed to decide this time? In the end, her concern over Andrea won out. Without the meds, Andrea was dead, but following this stranger into a potential trap still left a chance for him to be telling the truth.

"We'll come," said Michonne and lowered her katana. "I won't hesitate to cut your head off if I have to."

He grinned again. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm JJ, by the way."

...

"I don't like this."

Michonne looked over at Milton, annoyed. "I know. You've been saying it the entire way."

Milton looked like he wanted to say something else, but wisely remained quiet. Michonne gritted her teeth, almost wishing the annoying stranger had killed him after all. She had Andrea's left arm slung around her shoulders, one arm wrapped around the blonde's waist, and had been practically dragging her along for what seemed like miles. The stranger, JJ, had Michonne's pack strapped to the back of his bicycle, which he was pushing along at a leisurely rate in front of them.

"What if he kills us?" Milton interrupted and Michonne glared at him.

"Then we'll be dead."

JJ stopped and looked back at his new companions, waiting for them to walk up next to him. He pointed at the hill up ahead. "We're almost there. It's just over this hill."

Michonne took a deep breath and hoped they could make it. Andrea was pretty much passed out and Michonne was getting tired. JJ seemed to notice and gestured at the blonde. "You want me to help you?"

"No," she said, definitely not trusting the stranger with Andrea. Michonne bent down, putting her other arm under Andrea's knees and picked her up. Andrea was too out of it to protest and Michonne was glad the blonde was not very heavy. She nodded at JJ. "Let's go."

The stranger grinned and pushed his bike forward. He lead them over the hill, down a slope towards a dilapidated farm house. The closer they got, the less sure Michonne felt about her decision to come along. There was a huge hole in the roof, where a tree had fallen through that was still resting partially inside the house. The side it had come down on was entirely ripped open. The house looked like it wouldn't survive a strong storm, let alone serve as a hideout from walkers and others.

"**This** is where you've brought us?" hissed Michonne, angry that she had let this stranger talk her into what was shaping up to be a trap.

JJ ignored her question and motioned towards the house. "Come on."

Michonne wanted to turn around right there, but if there was even the slightest chance this guy could save Andrea, she had to take it. They followed JJ towards the house, but he led them right past it and off to the side. He took Michonne's pack and set his bike on the ground, then covered it with a camouflage tarp and leaves. Seeing Milton and Michonne's confused faces he grinned. JJ reached into the dirt and pulled open a hatch, revealing steps descending towards another door.

"Have a little faith," he said as he climbed down the steps. The door at the bottom was of heavy metal and when he knocked it sounded hollow and dull. After several moments the door began creaking and was pushed open slowly.

A tall man with narrow eyes and an ill-fitting baseball cap glared at them when the door fully opened. JJ motioned for him to move out of the way. "I brought friends. Let us in."

The man looked just as confused as Michonne felt, but there was hope blossoming in her chest that JJ had been telling the truth. She followed him through the door, careful not to hit Andrea's head on the wall. Behind the door was a dim and crammed entryway, followed by what looked like a kitchenette. There was even a rickety table with some chairs. JJ walked straight through the kitchen area to where another area branched off to the side. Michonne noticed electric lightbulbs on the ceiling, spreading a dim light throughout.

The next area was lined by bunk beds against both walls, four beds on each side. JJ put Michonne's pack on the ground and motioned at the bottom bunk. "You can put her down there."

Michonne laid Andrea on top of the blanket covering the bunk as gently as possible. Her mind was racing, but she was too worried about Andrea to be able to assess their situation. Milton stood just behind her, looking like a lost and confused puppy. The tall man stood in the doorway between the kitchen and bunk area, staring at them. JJ took off his jacket and tossed it onto one of the bunks. He gestured towards the tall man with his head.

"That's Ben. He's harmless...I think. Ben, these are my new friends Michonne, Milton and Blondie. Ben, tell Stacy to get the medical bag," said JJ, waiting for the man to leave before sitting next to Andrea on the bunk.

"Her name is Andrea," said Michonne, looking down at the stranger.

"That's fantastic, really. How long has she been sick?" asked JJ, his tone going from aloof and joking to serious in a split-second.

Michonne sat heavily on the bunk across from him. "We can't be sure. She was being held somewhere. The cough is new. No more than a day."

Both looked up when another person entered the area behind Milton. Michonne had been expecting Ben, but instead saw an equally tall girl, slim, with long blonde hair and a pissed off look on her face. "Why are you bringing more people here? We're already low on supplies!"

The scathing look JJ gave the blonde told Michonne he had been playing around with her earlier the entire time, even when she'd had her katana to his throat. "Yeah, if you don't like it Stacy, you are welcome to leave. Now give me that damn bag."

She handed him a large backpack and turned, walking off in a huff. JJ dug around in some of the compartments to pull out several items Michonne recognized as medical. He used sanitizer on his hands before using a stethoscope to listen to Andrea's chest. Michonne watched him carefully, especially the changing expressions on his face as he examined her friend.

"You a doctor?" she asked when he put the stethoscope down.

"Not exactly," he said, sticking some kind of strip onto Andrea's forehead, "I was a medic in the Air Force. Close enough, right?"

Michonne wanted to argue that it wasn't, but he was the only person who had any kind of chance saving Andrea now. JJ looked down at the blonde's forehead and his frown, the first one Michonne had seen on his face, was worrisome.

"Her temperature is 104. Her heart rate and breathing are too fast and there are crackles in her lungs. I'm fairly sure she has pneumonia, but without a lab I can't know which type," said JJ, his tone more serious than Michonne had heard it before.

"Can you save her?"

"I can't guarantee that whatever antibiotics I have will kill the bacteria causing her pneumonia. I want you to know that before I start."

Michonne didn't respond, too angry and upset. She stared at him and after a few moments JJ nodded and reached into the backpack again. He pulled out a bag of IV fluids and pushed the backpack towards Michonne. "Look in the side pocket, there are a bunch of small bottles. Find me one that says doxycycline, azithromycin, clarithromycin, or fluoroquinolone."

Michonne dumped out all the bottles on the bed, checking each confusing label. She finally found the right bottle and turned back to JJ just as he was taping down the IV to the back of Andrea's hand and hanging the bag of fluids on a nail above the bunk. JJ took the bottle from her and added the antibiotic to the IV with a syringe. He looked down at the blonde for a few moments, before turning back to Michonne.

"Now we wait." JJ sighed and got up, motioning at the kitchen area. "If you're hungry I can have Stacy scrounge up some food. For you and your puppy."

He grinned at the end, glancing at Milton who seemed offended but too afraid to say anything. Michonne was starving, but she was loathe to leave Andrea alone in a strange place. She stood as well and motioned towards Andrea. "I'd rather stay with her."

JJ looked between them and nodded. "Suit yourself. Come on, Milton, you can keep me company."

Michonne wanted to smile at the terrified look on Milton's face, but turned her attention to Andrea. The other two left, although she could hear them in the kitchen area. She moved Andrea as carefully as possible closer towards the wall and squeezed in next to her on the small bunk. If she couldn't feel the blonde next to her Michonne knew she'd never be able to sleep. She leaned back, suddenly exhausted as days of worrying about Andrea, hardly sleeping and no food caught up with her. Michonne was asleep in seconds.

_to be continued_


End file.
